


If You Talk Enough Sense

by Mireille



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Female Loki (Marvel), Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Intersex Jotunn (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Shapeshifter Loki (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 07:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13208769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: “I would have you be yourself,” Thor says, because if Loki is here, without disguise, then perhaps there will be something other than duty in this new life.





	If You Talk Enough Sense

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soft_princess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soft_princess/gifts).



> The title is from "I Found," by Amber Run.
>
>>  
>> 
>> _And I'll use you as a makeshift gauge_  
>  _Of how much to give and how much to take_  
>  _Oh I'll use you as a warning sign_  
>  _That if you talk enough sense, then you'll lose your mind_  
> 
> 
> __
> 
> _This story was supposed to be dark and twisted and unhappy. It refused to stay that way. I found I didn't mind, really._

The first time it happens, it comes as a complete surprise to Thor.

It is spring, and they are young; the Æsir do not measure age in the same way as mortals, but he and Loki are in that awkward period when they are no longer children, yet not quite men. It has gone on entirely too long, and Thor is more than ready to be counted as a full-grown man. He is restless, frustrated, aware that something is subtly wrong without being able to put a name to it. 

He rarely notices serving-girls, barely even notices the work they do, unless it inconveniences him in some way, but he notices this one; she always seems to be cleaning or doing...something, whatever it is that servants do... not far from where he is. It seems odd to him, because he is under the impression that servants have specific duties that do not take them wandering all over the palace. 

But she is very pretty, with dark hair in a tight plait down her back and features more delicate than he would have expected from a servant, and when he asks her to walk with him in the gardens, she agrees readily. 

That seems odd to him as well, but she is _very_ pretty, and he is young, and he does not think very long about the fact that a servant would find herself in trouble if she abandoned her duties to walk with the young prince. 

That afternoon, they only walk and talk, and Thor finds himself enchanted by her wit, by her gracefulness, by the sound of her voice. She tells him little about herself, only that her name is Mette, and she has not been at the palace long. 

That evening, he bores Loki to the point of throwing one of his precious books at Thor's head by recounting every word that he said to her, and all of her replies. 

“What would she see in you, oaf?” Loki demands, and Thor laughs, because he is Thor, prince of Asgard, and that is answer enough for him, and for Mette, and for everyone except his strange, argumentative brother. 

Loki laughs as well, and Thor, as he so often does, finds himself noticing the way his brother's mouth twists, as though it causes him pain to laugh with Thor. Loki is only like that with him, and Thor does not understand why. 

The next day, he kisses Mette--they are both clumsy and hesitant, but her mouth is sweet against his--and when they part for breath, she smiles brightly at him. 

There is a strange twist to her lips, as though it pains her to smile at him, and Thor is suddenly terrified. He knows Loki has the gift of _seiðr_ , that Mother has said his magic will exceed her own, and he has seen Loki alter his form. He mastered the shapes of animals first--Thor will never forget the snake--but even when they were children, Loki would make himself resemble their tutor, the better to mock him when lessons were done. 

At the time, the imitations of people were imperfect, but that was long ago, and Loki has not demonstrated this sort of magic for Thor in a very long time. His skill has undoubtedly improved.

If Thor is wrong, he will be doing Mette a great unkindness, but Thor is sure that he is not wrong. And if he is, he will apologize, and he will be forgiven--his entire life to this point has told him as much--and the worst that might happen is that he will have to find another girl to dally with. So he takes a deep breath, and looks into Mette's warm brown eyes, and says, “You would be much prettier if your eyes were green.”

He doesn't know what he expects--a slap, despite the difference in their status? Tears? Angry words?--but what happens is that Mette gives him that smile again, and says, “Close your eyes, then, my prince.” 

He does, and when he opens them again, her eyes are the same green ones that so often watch him from over the top of a book of magic. “Much better,” he says, though he doesn't know why; how is this better? How is this _anything_ but dreadful? But he finds himself reaching out for her, all the same. 

Mette pulls away from him then, seemingly in a panic; she flees down the path and disappears around a corner. Thor lets her go. 

Loki avoids him that night, and all the next day; Thor doesn't mind, because he needs to think. No, he needs _not_ to think, because thinking tells him this is a disaster, this is a trick, this is Loki turning into a snake to get close enough to stab him. 

But Loki smiles like Thor's presence hurts him, and Loki watches him over his books, and Thor knows that he can survive Loki's daggers another time, if he is wrong. And if he is not wrong--Thor may not have known, yesterday, that this was what he wanted, why there was a restless itch under his skin and an ache he could not name, but he knows now. 

So the second night, he once again makes Loki listen to every word he said to Mette, and every word she said to him, and how her eyes had changed to brilliant green. He even confesses that he was reaching out to kiss her again when she had run away, and that is when Thor notices that Loki has gone very still and even paler than usual. 

“Close your eyes, then, you great imbecile,” Loki says, and when Thor opens them again, Mette is standing before him. 

Her hair is darker now, raven-black, and her eyes are brilliant green.

****

The affair with “Mette” continues for several seasons, until Thor and Loki have a particularly virulent quarrel. Then, she stops meeting Thor in secret corners and visiting his rooms late at night, and Loki does his reading in the palace library instead of sprawled over a chair wherever Thor is.

Thor tells himself this is good. That even the vast leeway allowed to Asgard's princes will not be enough to protect them, should they be caught, and besides, who in his right mind would want _Loki_ , even if he does enchant himself into the form of a pretty girl? Loki is spiky and difficult and sly and sarcastic, and Thor always feels slightly off-balance around him these days. Better to spend time with his friends, warriors all, rather than with a peevish _seiðmaðr_. 

He is therefore _not_ well pleased when--eventually, after two or three mortal years--Loki begins seeking out his company again. He is even more displeased when, at the wedding of one of his mother's ladies-in-waiting, an unknown girl with sharp green eyes and a smile Thor pretends he has forgotten demands that he dance with her. 

He is so displeased, in fact, that they do not leave his bed until the next evening, and with her in his arms, his sleep is sweet and dreamless.

They fall into a pattern, so easily that Thor does not realize it: eventually, they will fight, and there will be a time--sometimes months, sometimes mortal lifetimes--when Loki does not disguise himself and come to Thor's bed. After the initial quarrel has burnt itself out, they often seem almost normal to outsiders, hunting and fighting side-by-side, with no outward sign that Thor would give almost anything to find the key to make Loki less vicious, less likely to take offense. During those times, they take other lovers, and Loki, surprisingly, never comments on the fact that the women at Thor's side are nearly always quick-witted and dark. 

Thor might comment on Loki's choices, but he knows so little about them. There is Sigyn, and there are any number of whispers that Thor does not hear, not any more, not once he has made clear that he will tolerate no talk of _ergi_ and his brother, _seiðr_ or no. 

He does not let himself think about the times when their mutual anger fades, and he meets another woman with green eyes, and what that says about Loki, or about himself. 

And then one day, Thor is walking through the market when he feels someone watching him. He looks up to see those familiar eyes--if they are to be seen in public, Loki changes his eye color as well, but never for Thor, not since that first time; it is the way Thor can be sure it is Loki who has caught his interest--and realizes that it is a young, copper-haired man giving him the smile that never fails to claw at his heart. 

Thor turns and quickly walks away. 

He sees the man again in the feasting hall that evening, and falls into a loud conversation with Volstagg in order to make it clear that Thor is ignoring him. When he looks up again, the man is gone, and Loki is deep in his own conversation with Amora. 

But that night, the copper-haired man is waiting for Thor in his rooms. Thor does not have to ask how he got in; Loki has ever considered a closed, or even a locked, door to be only a suggestion. 

Loki does not bother with a greeting. “You know what they say about _seiðmenn_ ,” he says, giving Thor a flirtatious look. Then, in a sharper tone, “I know you do, because you've been protesting that it doesn't apply to Prince Loki. Brother dear, have you grown confused? Have you forgotten that I, not you, am the god of lies?” He lowers his voice, steps closer to Thor and puts a hand on Thor's bicep. Thor would pull away, but as always, he is caught by Loki's eyes. “Or have you forgotten how well you know that I have lain with men?” 

“That was different,” Thor says, his mouth suddenly dry. “You wore a woman's shape.” 

“But you have always known it was me. _Always_ , brother; I have never lied to you. Not about this.” 

“It does not matter,” Thor protests; surely it _must_ make a difference that Loki had not been a man at the time. 

Loki laughs; it is the laugh that Thor hates, the mocking one with no joy in it. “No, I suppose it doesn't,” he says. “Because _this_ is the form I have chosen to take with you now, and it will be this body or none at all that you lie with.” 

Thor cannot answer immediately, and so Loki adds, “Is it the hair? I rather like it, but if you don't fancy red hair, that can be changed. See how generous I can be?” 

“Stop talking!” Thor bellows; Loki glares at him, but falls silent. 

“This is unbefitting a prince of Asgard,” he mutters, then scowls at Loki when he begins to laugh again. 

“How has anything we have done been befitting a prince of Asgard?” That is said lightly, but then Loki hisses, “You have always known, Thor. You have always chosen to bed me regardless. You have used my name, the name of your brother, while you are buried inside me. _Tell me how this is different._ ” 

This is different, Thor wants to say, because this makes it feel less like play, less like one of Loki's tricks, one that Thor goes along with for the sake of the game. This male body is one step closer to Loki's own, and that makes this feel all too real. He is not certain whether or not he wants it to be real. 

But it has been so long since the last time Loki came to him, and Loki's words are compelling, and maybe even true. And if Thor gets this wrong, Loki will leave, and perhaps never return. 

No one will know, at least, Thor tells himself, and says, “I assume that there _are_ some differences, brother, but perhaps you will give me the benefit of your experience.”

His words sound hollow, but there is nothing bitter in Loki's answering smile, and that, it seems, is more than enough for Thor.

****

“No,” Thor says, flatly, standing in the middle of the room with his arms folded. Then, more loudly, “ _No_!”

“No?” Fandral says, though Fandral's eyes are not green, and Fandral is on Vanaheim at the moment. The imitation is perfect in every other way, though, and Thor's gut roils with anger. 

“ _Not_ Fandral,” he growls. Loki has never done this before. All the shapes that he has worn, over all the years that they have been doing this, and none has ever been someone that Thor knows. He can sometimes see inspiration--that man's mouth, that woman's nose--but the faces have never belonged to anyone other than Loki. “Not anyone,” he adds.

“Suit yourself,” his brother's voice drawls, and Loki is sitting on the couch. “I'm afraid I can't quite manage 'not anyone' without leaving the room, but as it's only me, I'm certain it's close enough for your purposes.” 

Thor's face feels hot; he'd been so delighted when Loki came to him again, a few weeks past, but everything has been even more complicated than usual, every conversation woven with traps that Thor cannot even detect until he has sprung them. He wants to put things right, but every attempt has failed miserably, because Loki is utterly determined to be angry with him, to be difficult, to resent Thor for not giving him something for which Loki has not asked and which Thor cannot even _name_. 

“Not anyone I know,” he amends. “You've never done that before. I don't--I don't _want_ Fandral,” he finishes, weakly, because the words _I want you_ , the words he has to bite back, are meaningless. He has never had _Loki_ , not really. That is not what this game is about; Thor is still certain of that even though he is no longer certain of what it does mean. 

“Of course,” Loki says. “Whatever you wish, Thor.” He sounds bitter. Why does he sound so bitter? Why can he not simply tell Thor what it is that troubles him? 

What Thor wishes, he realizes, is a night like those so long ago, when Loki watched him over the pages of a book of sorcery. A night when his brother's company was not the prelude to an argument. He is searching for the words to say as much when Loki goes on talking.

“Do you have any preference, or will any nameless stranger do for you?” 

And that is so far from what Thor wants that his anger takes over, and he hears himself saying, “I believe I would prefer to take my satisfaction from a whore. At least then, the price would be agreed upon in advance.” Not this, where he does not even know what Loki wants from him, or what he wants from Loki. 

Loki vanishes then, teleporting away without either flaying Thor with his words or--which Thor had half been expecting--slicing him open with the knives he always keeps on his person. 

Without a target, Thor's anger dissipates. He sits down heavily on the couch, on the spot still warmed from Loki's presence, feeling only a little ill and very tired. 

“ _I only want you_ ,” he says; the words will come out now that Loki is gone. He would have said it, but Loki had to push and snipe and bite, and now he has ruined everything. 

Or perhaps not? If Thor makes Loki understand why he had been so angry--because those unknown faces were not _Loki_ , as such, but at least they had not been anyone else--could this be mended?

Not yet, certainly. Loki leaving without retaliation means that Loki is too angry to listen to Thor. 

But soon, very soon, he will go to Loki, and make him understand, and perhaps they can start again, yet another time. 

But before Thor judges that enough time has passed, he is caught up in preparing for the ceremony that will name him crown prince of Asgard, Odin's true heir. This is important, Thor tells himself; his personal concerns can wait until it is over. 

Instead, there is anger and madness and war, and no more moments like this between them, not until Thor has mourned Loki's death more than once, and they are on a ship, flying away from the ruins of their home.

****

When the ship is well underway on its journey away from the ruins of Asgard, and Thor returns to his quarters, Jane Foster is lying on his bed. She is naked, and her eyes are emerald green.

“ _No_ ,” Thor growls, because as much part of him longs for the illusion that Jane was still his, she is not, and it is not fair to Jane, nor to anyone else, to pretend otherwise. 

She shimmers and blurs and reforms into the Valkyrie--”No!”--into Banner--” _Stop_ this--” into Korg (though he, at least, is clothed; perhaps Loki is as happily uninformed about Kronan anatomy as Thor himself)--“You're not even trying,” Thor says wearily. 

Does he want Loki to have tried? He wants this to be a game again, the way it was between them so long ago--Loki's tricks fooling him only as much as he chooses to be deceived, to look the other way. To pretend that this is not what they both have always wanted, even if it tears them to shreds. But he is the king of a homeless people now, and the ruin of his eye aches, and he does not know when he will next be able to find joy in a game. 

“Who do you want me to be?” and it is Loki's voice coming from Korg's mouth, which makes the answer simple. 

“I would have you be yourself,” Thor says, because if Loki is here, without disguise, then perhaps there will be something other than duty in this new life. Because Thor has not forgotten the day he realized what he truly wants from Loki. 

For a moment, he thinks that Loki has agreed; the form on his bed is all long, pale limbs and a fall of dark hair. But then she looks up, and it is yet another illusion. She is beautiful, and there is something of Loki in her features; Thor thinks that if Loki had been his sister, this is what she would have looked like. The smile twisting her lips is certainly pure Loki; it is the one that cuts at Thor's heart. 

But she is not his brother, and with a sigh, Thor turns away. 

“This _is_ myself,” Loki snaps--and it is Loki's voice, as well; higher and lighter, but none but Loki could ever sound this irritated with Thor. 

“My brother is not a woman,” Thor says, which seems like something that should have been painfully obvious to even the slowest mind. 

“I am, when I wear this body. This is not a disguise, Thor, or no more a disguise than the face I have worn since childhood. This is who I am--not always, but at times. Times like now, obviously.”

“Who you are is who you are!” Thor argued. “How can that change? Your face, your shape--yes, of course, your magic is powerful, and none know better than I how skilled you are at that enchantment. But how can _you_ change?” 

“You fool,” Loki says. “I don't. But this is as much my body as the one you have coveted so long.” She smirks at him; perhaps Loki has always known how many times Thor has longed for Loki to cast away his disguises. Thor should have guessed as much. “Are you not still Thor, despite your shorn hair and ravaged face?” 

“That isn't the same as being a woman!” he protests, and Loki laughs. 

“No, of course it isn't. _This_ doesn't hurt.” She studies her hand for a moment, the nails longer than Loki's--than Loki's male form? Thor is trying to understand, but like so much where Loki is concerned, he fears he never will. “Well, it doesn't hurt me. I imagine I could rake bloody trails down your back, if that appeals.” 

Thor remembers times that Loki has done that, in the long-ago past. He says nothing, but he can hear his own breathing, suddenly loud and harsh in the quiet room. 

“Does that appeal--my king? Would you have me thus?” Loki pushes up on her elbows, watching him through a curtain of hair, and her expression is so perfectly _Loki_ that suddenly, Thor understands, at least a little. 

This is not Loki pretending to be Jane, or the Valkyrie, or Fandral, or any of a thousand disguises Loki has undoubtedly used throughout his life. This is no other person's face, no other woman's form; this is no mere disguise. This is Loki, a body she has chosen for _herself_ , and so Loki has chosen to give Thor what he asked for, after all. 

Just not in the way he expected it, which, if Thor is to be completely honest with himself, should not have come as a surprise, given that this _is_ Loki he is dealing with.

****

They are only a few days from Midgard now, and Thor is beginning to believe in his bones that they will make it. He has shown nothing but unwavering belief in front of his people--in front of most of his people, that is.

Loki may be one of his subjects; Loki even acknowledges that--much to Thor's amazement--in front of the the rest of the Æsir. Loki acknowledges it in Thor's bed as well, where she appears only in her female form, which is never seen outside the quarters they unofficially share. Thor does not believe she ever let herself be seen on Asgard this way, either, but Loki will not answer questions about why. 

Today, though, Loki is here in what Thor still thinks of as his normal appearance, the brother Thor has loved and hated and loved again, his entire life. And in this room, this Loki acknowledges Thor as his brother--grudgingly, but it is enough for Thor--but usually ignores the fact that Thor is also his king. 

And that means that Thor has been able to show doubt in front of him. He wonders if that is part of Loki's intent, to give Thor a place where he can be only a man, and not a ruler. He could ask Loki, if he wanted to be mocked for the question, but he knows he will never be given the answer. 

Today, though, Thor has real hope, and Loki must see it on his face. “All is well, then?” Loki asks, as if he did not know. Thor had been doubtful, at first, when Loki began mingling among their people, but the people of Asgard--to Thor's surprise--do not distrust him. Palace intrigues matter less to them than the fact that Loki was instrumental in their survival, and that they have learned that the last few years of peace and prosperity were Loki's doing rather than Odin's. Thor's people accept Loki as their prince, and as their king's adviser. Thor swallows hard at the thought of how pleased Frigga would have been to see her sons united for the good of their people. 

“We will be able to contact Midgard the day after tomorrow, or perhaps the day after that. Then, we will see.” He cannot restrain his smile, and it eases his heart to see that Loki is smiling, as well. 

He crosses the room in a few short strides, reaching for Loki, as has become his habit. Most days, if Loki is not already in his female form, he shifts as Thor embraces him. A few times, when they have been arguing and Thor thinks to silence him with caresses, Loki has used his dagger on Thor instead--always a shallow cut, painful but quickly healed. Thor finds those days oddly comforting; for all that has changed between them for good and ill, Loki is, at the moment, much the same as he has ever been. 

Today, Loki merely side-steps, evading him altogether. “Would you not prefer another form today?” he says. “You are wasting my talents. Here you have a concubine who can resemble anyone you can imagine, and yet you want nothing but the blandest fare.”

“ _Consort_ ,” Thor snaps, startling himself as much as Loki. “Not concubine.” He wonders if Loki remembers that last bitter time in Asgard. Of course Loki remembers; Loki remembers every slight dealt to him since he learned to crawl, and Thor can only be grateful that Loki chose not to describe himself as his brother's whore. 

Concubine, at least, is a gentler word, but that is not what Thor sees him as, and really, is it such a poor idea? Their people know already that Loki is not the child of Odin's body, was not borne by Frigga; he was brought up a prince, but there is no reason why he could not sit at Thor's right hand when Thor takes the throne of New Asgard. There will be some disapproval, on many different grounds, but Thor believes that the people will come around, and sooner rather than later. They are building a new world, and some ideas should be left behind to burn with Asgard. 

Loki's eyes are wide and dark with surprise, but he does not stumble over his words. “Even so. Especially so,” he adds. “How would you have me?” 

“As yourself,” Thor says; it is all he wants, all he has ever truly wanted from this, and they have lost too much for him to be willing to deny it any longer. “As my lady, or as the prince, whichever you prefer, but as yourself.”

Loki chuckles, and it has an edge Thor has not heard in quite some time. “But the prince of what realm?” 

And in a blink, Loki is gone, replaced by a creature with deep blue skin and burning red eyes. Loki's features are still there, under the ridges forming strange patterns on his skin, but Thor takes an involuntary step backward, hands curling into fists, because instinct trained into him over centuries dies hard. 

Loki sees him recoil, and his expression hardens, though he will not meet Thor's eye. “As myself, you say,” he spits, “and yet you are afraid.”

No. Thor is not afraid. He is not a child, and he has learned that the universe is far more complex than children's stories would paint it. Loki is a Jotunn. Loki is his brother. Loki has his claws and teeth firmly sunk into Thor's heart, no matter what skin he wears. 

But he does not _like_ this, and from the way Loki averts his gaze from the mirror in the corner of the room, Thor does not believe that Loki likes it either. 

“You are still Loki,” Thor says, looking directly at him, although Loki still will not look at him.

“Prove it,” Loki says. “This is myself--my true self, the skin I was born to wear.” Thor is not certain that, after so long, this _is_ Loki's true self; he doubts this is how Loki sees himself, ever. But Loki is still talking, his voice as brittle as glass, as icicles. “If you would have me as myself, then bed me as _myself_.” 

Thor winces, because while he knows this is still Loki, that this has always been present under the familiar face, he has to struggle to not see an enemy. And the thought of lying with a Jotunn, a Frost Giant, the face of all his childhood nightmares-- “I cannot,” Thor says, feeling sick and ashamed as he does. 

“Then I _will_ not,” Loki snarls. “Now or ever again. If you wish me as myself, _my king_ , then you must take me as I was born.”

And Loki is still watching him out of the corner of his eye--the color of fire and rubies and blazing sunsets--and Thor finally realizes that Loki looks frightened. Of him. Of what Thor can do to him. What Thor is doing to him now, without a word. 

This is Loki, Thor reminds himself. This has always been there, inside Loki, for their entire lives. There is nothing this Jotunn form can do to Thor that Loki has not already done, no hurt he can cause Thor that Thor has not already suffered at Loki's hands--and yet, he has refused, has always refused, to believe that Loki is a monster. 

It logically follows that Loki is still not a monster. 

It logically follows that Thor has been a monumental ass. 

He draws a deep breath and steps forward, and this time, Loki allows Thor to embrace him. 

The blue skin is cool, and rougher to the touch than either of Loki's Æsir forms, but the beat of Loki's heart is as familiar to him as his own.

****

Tomorrow. Tomorrow they will be able to contact Midgard, will be able to ask their allies for a home. Soon after that, they will begin the work of rebuilding Asgard--of _remaking_ Asgard into a better place, one not built upon gilded lies.

Thor looks over at the figure lying next to him and chuckles softly to himself. Well. Perhaps a _few_ lies, at least if Thor is fortunate. 

He must speak with Loki, to make certain that Loki agrees with Thor's plan--to make certain that Loki _understands_ Thor's plan, because they have yet to have a direct conversation about it. It could wait until morning--on the schedule of light and dark they have established on the ship, it still lacks two hours or so until “dawn”--but Thor is not naturally patient, and while it is a virtue he will have to encourage in himself, not here. Not with Loki, whose reaction to patience is rarely a positive one. 

“Loki,” Thor says, leaning over him and poking him in the shoulder. “Loki, are you awake?” 

He rolls back onto his own side of the bed just in time to avoid the dagger Loki keeps under his pillow--for just such an occasion, rather than for any attack, Thor suspects. 

“Excellent reflexes,” Loki congratulates him. “I won't miss next time.” 

“I would be disappointed if you did.” 

“What do you want?” Loki asks. He is lying down again, the dagger returned to its hiding place. His eyes are closed; it is easier to talk to him that way, Thor finds, and is grateful. 

“We need to discuss our plans,” he says. 

“We have done little else since we left Asgard,” Loki murmurs. He was ever difficult to wake, if he let himself sleep deeply, and if Thor let him, he would fall back to sleep in a moment. Rather like a Midgardian cat, Thor thinks, and perhaps there should be cats in New Asgard. He could ask Banner to help him find one for Loki, a sleek black beast--but his thoughts are wandering, and Loki is still talking. 

“If we are not discussing plans, we are making inventories and calculating rations and settling disputes and why did no one ever _tell_ me that ruling was so interminably dull? I'd have left Odin to it.”

Thor finds his heart warmed by that one word, “we,” and perhaps this will be less difficult than he fears. “Not the plans for our people. Plans that concern no one outside these walls.” Not entirely true; what affects Thor affects his people, but true enough. 

Loki's eyes open, and he watches Thor thoughtfully. “And what plans might those be?” 

“You will still be at my side?” Thor asks, careful to make it a question and not an order. They have mentioned this before, or at least, Thor has mentioned it, and Loki has not disagreed. 

“Of course,” Loki says. “I'm the one with experience, after all, and it would be just like you to make a mess of everything. You need an adviser who knows how to solve problems without hitting them.” 

“You nearly stabbed me five minutes ago!” 

“ _That_ is merely an expression of my deepest feelings for you.”

That may actually be true, and not as discouraging as it might seem to someone who does not know Loki. “I am glad,” Thor says simply. He is tired of pretense. It has never been his strong point, anyway. “But in what capacity will you stand there?” 

Loki waves a hand dismissively. “Trusted adviser, prince of the realm, whatever you like, as long as it's a grand enough title.” 

“Consort,” Thor says again, hoping this time Loki is listening. “Or Queen, if you prefer.”

The reply is immediate. “Not your queen; Asgard has no claim upon that Loki.” Precisely chosen words that lighten Thor's heart yet again; there is a Loki on whose heart Asgard still has a hold. He has known that since he learned the truth of Loki's reign disguised as the All-Father, but to hear Loki admit as much, even obliquely, is more than Thor had hoped, at least before much more time has passed. 

“Consort, then?” He will make no assumptions, will wait to hear the words from Loki's lips. Then, even if they are lies, Thor will have been guilty of nothing more than trusting Loki yet again. 

“So King Thor will take an _argr_ Jotunn as his spouse?” Loki laughs. “You have an unsuspected streak of chaos in you.” 

“King Thor,” he says deliberately, “will take the savior of Asgard as his spouse. He will wed for the good of his people--and for the good of his own heart.” 

“Remember that speech,” Loki says; his expression has not changed, but his eyes are brighter than normal. “Give them that. You'll convince all but the most hide-bound idiot.” 

“Will I need to convince them? You haven't agreed yet.” 

“ _Prince_ Consort,” Loki says firmly. “I was raised a prince of Asgard, and born a prince of Jotunheim. I insist on the title I am due.” 

“Prince Consort,” Thor agrees, as though there was any question that he would not.. 

“There will be questions about heirs,” Loki warns him. “How will you answer them?” 

Thor frowns. “Can you--?” 

Loki has a rare moment of mercy and answers without making Thor finish the question. “If my magic is unfettered for the entire time, I believe so. If it fails, for any reason, though...” Now it is his turn to leave a sentence incomplete, but his meaning is clear. 

Neither of them mentions Loki's Jotunn form. Thor had not realized, until two nights ago, that on Jotunheim there were neither men or women. From Loki's reaction when Thor made that discovery, _Loki_ had not spent enough time in his natural form to have given the matter much thought, either. That would be safer, less dependent on no enemy damping or warding against Loki's magic for such a long period of time, but Thor has seen how much Loki hates his Jotunn form, and would not consider the possibility even if Loki were to offer. 

“We will find a solution in time,” he says. “And that is answer enough.”

Loki looks as relieved as Thor feels to put that subject aside for the present. “Then since we agree, I am going to go back to sleep.”

“All is not settled,” Thor says. “If you are to be my consort, then it is in this form that our people will see you, correct?” 

“Yes, of course,” Loki says. “This is how they know me. Besides, I generally prefer this appearance.” 

“And yet, you have never allowed me to as much as kiss you in this shape.” 

“Haven't I?” Loki thinks for a moment, then smiles. “No, I suppose not.” 

“I want _you_ ,” Thor says, as he has said so often in the past weeks. “I have had you as my lady Loki, and I have had you as Loki Laufeyson, prince of Jotunheim, and I know they are both truly part of you. But I would have the Loki I have known my entire life, the Loki who is both my brother and my betrothed.” He takes a deep breath. “The Loki who has held my heart for so long that I don't remember a time when he did not.” 

“And if you weren't such an incomparable idiot, you would have realized you had me all along,” Loki says, and pulls Thor to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Random promotion of cool fanworks: When I was looking for "I Found" on YouTube, after this story was finished and I was trying to decide on a title, I stumbled upon a lovely Loki/Thor vid to it. It was a delightful coincidence, and while my fic and this vid have nothing to do with one another, I think more people should see the vid. It's here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ufxjIsr2h9k


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